


To Get To Where We Want To Go

by Atacama



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Gap Filler, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Brian Kinney, POV First Person, POV Justin Taylor, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3341540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atacama/pseuds/Atacama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Ethan Gold debacle, Brian and Justin are casually minding their own business, not being domestic, at the grocery store, when they are interrupted. It is a perfect opportunity for Justin to clear things up and make things right, for Ethan to get over himself, and Brian to stake his claim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Get To Where We Want To Go

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posting of some very old fic (circa 2007) from LJ to AO3. Sorry to spam and I apologise in advance for the errors of a younger writer.

Justin POV

It's been three months since Brian and I got back together. There are so many things we should talk about, but we’re not talking - at all. I suppose so far we’re still just enjoying the being together part. Anyone say honeymoon period and I'll never speak to them again cause Brian will probably panic and fuck five guys in an hour just to prove to everyone that we are _not_ together. 

At least he’s eased up on the - kicking me out of bed to make space for someone else thing, though. For which I'm supremely grateful, since even though I told him I knew exactly what to expect from him, that was a bit much. But I waited him out and obviously my patience prevailed and he slowed down on the - making a point to Justin thing. Either that, or he just realised it was a complete waste of time. I mean it was really stupid. Why kick someone willing out of your bed, half sated for someone else who’ll give a mediocre blowjob and won't be there in the morning for shower sex?

Anyway, Brian managed to persuade me to cook him something tonight - still managing to make it feel like the experience was going to take some great fucking sacrifice on his part. But I don’t mind so much, it’s just the way Brian is. So we’re at the supermarket - cause we made that part of the deal, I’ll cook but he needs to come with me to the grocery store and bring his wallet. I would pay for it but I know that he wouldn’t come if I did. He tried to just give me his wallet but I kind of gave him the impression that without close supervision I would end up re-stocking on Oreos, pop tarts and the full fat type of ice-cream. So he gave in, which he was going to do anyway because he was totally aware that I was trying to manipulate him.

We’ve already looked at the vegetables so that he could get the innuendos and lewd gestures out of the way and now we’re going through the aisles. I'm pushing the shopping cart because that’s something Brian Kinney just won't be caught doing and anyway, he needs his hands free so that he can feel me up whenever the mood strikes. 

The mood strikes quite often. 

I place things in the cart and occasionally when something isn’t up to his standards, he’ll take it out again and replace it with whichever product he feels better represents his social and economic standing. I don’t know if he's noticed that he's replacing most of what goes into this thing. I wonder if he really thinks I don’t know what quality food he eats. 

I go for a really cheap brand of tinned tomatoes but before I can put them in the cart he grabs my wrist, directs it back to the shelf and makes me drop them. He then pins my wrist to the shelf and moves his whole body against mine. He doesn’t break eye contact, as his mouth covers mine.

“Stop doing that!” he says once he pulls his head back. “It's a waste of energy.” One arm caresses the back of my neck making me shiver and his other arm moves behind me. 

He never looks away from my eyes, which are probably a little glazed and needy. He keeps his crotch up against mine. The pressure and very slight rocking movement making me gasp and grab at his waist. He's got me trapped, I can't move and I hardly notice. Then he brings his arm back and he's got a few tins of tomatoes in his hand, of the sort he likes. He lets go of me completely, steps back, places them in the shopping trolley and continues down the aisle, leaving me there, to recover. 

I follow after him laughing and as my arm reaches to thread it's way around him I hear, “Justin?” 

I look up and I see Ethan. 

I feel Brian tense beside me, and then relax. He looks at me then goes back to what he was doing as if he’s totally disaffected; even though I know he’s paying close attention.

But what surprises me about bumping into Ethan suddenly is actually that... I'm not surprised. “Oh, hey Ethan” and I continue on, quite convinced that was the end of the exchange. 

But I'm stopped when I hear, “What? That’s it?”

I blink, “Well… Yes. Why? Were you expecting something else?” 

I look over at Brian but he’s choosing pasta, crouching low to reach for the kind he likes, his ass kind of on display but only for me, ‘cause no one else would really notice the beauty of his ass like that. He usually makes me get things from the bottom shelf. It's a game and I'm inventive. Before Brian, I hadn’t noticed how many different ways there were to bend over for things on bottom shelves.

“You don’t even look surprised to see me?”

“You do live in Pittsburgh!” 

I hear Brian mutter behind me something about, ‘That he hadn’t expected him in a supermarket in such a good part of town… that he must be doing better and that it doesn’t surprise him since he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to do any worse…’ He locks eyes with me and gives me a half shrug/grin that totally distracts me. I shake my head and resolve to commit my undivided attention to this conversation, which suddenly seems laborious ‘cause… well Brian did that half shrug/grin thing and… well, it's distracting.

“So your went back to Brian again?” Brian turns towards him and raises an eyebrow.

“No!” he says sarcastically “Didn’t you know? This is what Justin does on Wednesday evenings. Bump in to discarded fucks in supermarkets for meaningless chit-chat.” 

I look at Brian sharply, he shrugs and turns and fucks off somewhere, leaving me alone with Ethan. He’s within hearing distance I know this, although Ethan doesn’t. It's Brian’s way of removing his intimidating self out of the way so that Ethan can say whatever it seems he feels he needs to, but not leave me, not be without some sort of control over the situation. I look over at Ethan and raise my eyebrow in expectation.

“So how have you been?” He says.

“Fine!”

“I'm back from my tour.”

“No shit!”

“Justin, you’re not really helping me out here.” He gestures between us.

“Helping you do what, exactly?” and I am not being sarcastic, 'cause really what the fuck is this about?

“Can we talk?”

I speak slowly. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“No, yes… well we are but I want to see you again.”

“Why?” and I am truly perplexed, 'cause… well why?

“Because I think we have things we need to talk about… ummm closure?” He starts off quite confidently but seems to tail off as if he’s asking me a question and I glance at Brian who’s coming up towards me and seems slightly amused. 

“I don’t need closure,” I say, “but anything to make this _easier_ for _you_. So where do you want to go?”

“What now?” He seems surprised and hesitant.

“Yes, now. Ethan no offence but I want this over quick because I have better things to do and think about.” I say bluntly.

“Oh okay… but nothings open…?” He says with a feeble shrug.

I glance at Brian he shrugs and says, “Use the loft.”

Ethan obviously hadn’t realised that Brian was so close cause he tenses then scowls as if it were Brian who was invading our Wednesday evening shopping trip. But I'm not looking at Ethan, I'm watching Brian with a questioning look. He comes right up to where I'm standing in front of our shopping cart and reaches around me to drop the things he’s carrying inside but then he keeps his arms there, around me, holding me.

He looks at me and then kisses me quickly and says, “Let’s go pay”

I know Brian doesn’t like me questioning him. At least not in public where there would be people to witness him conceding. I know I can express all my doubts once we’re in the Vette, so I nod. He carries the cart off to the tills and I ask Ethan if he knows where to meet us. He doesn’t, so I explain and, then I turn and follow Brian.

Once we’re in the car I watch him but I wait.

“What?”

“Are you sure this is okay? I can meet him somewhere tomorrow for coffee it's not a big deal.”

“Its fine Justin.” He shrugs.

“This doesn’t bother you?” I ask him curiously.

“Should it?” and I suppose for Brian it really is that simple. Maybe it's that he's that confident or that he trusts me… at least I hope that’s it.

“Well, no…” I venture, hesitantly.

“But…?” He asks, glancing at me with one raised eyebrow.

I look down at my hands and bite my lip before replying, “Maybe I want it to. At least a little bit.”

“And people think you’re the mature one.” He says and I huff and he grins and everything’s ok... for a second. 

Then he looks at me seriously, looks away and says in a very casual way. “It’ll save you from doing this twice.” Twice? 

Oh! I guess I always knew I was going to have this conversation, the whys and becauses and the very, very subtle assurances that the sex with Ethan had sucked. (Not that Brian doubted that for a second, at least not in comparison to him.) A kind of clearance and detox of whatever the fuck it is that I had done. So that we can officially put it behind us, not have it hanging over us, to be used as an advantage in an argument. 

I just didn’t know that he knew we were going to have this conversation. I thought I'd have to connive and scheme to get it out in the open. Or start an all out fight to force Brian to confront it. If Ethan hadn’t shown up I probably would have had to rely on those things to get us there. Even though now I know Brian was aware of this pending conversation, I probably still would have had to go to many lengths to actually have it. But he's been expecting this so I suppose killing two birds with one stone, so to speak, is a good thing. There isn’t much else I can say or do now so I sit back and relax for however long I have.  
……………………………..

Brian POV

He seems okay. Shit! I don’t think, that under normal circumstances, I should be worried about him being okay. It's supposed to be the other way around… but fuck it, I'm not worried about me, and this… whatever the fuck it is that we have, well its good. Right now, its good. 

I've known that we were going to have to have some sort of conversation about the fiddler fiasco. He gets this look when things are quiet… when we aren’t fucking, which isn’t very often… but I can tell he wants to talk. He's reluctant cause he doesn’t want to start anything that might jeopardise this small reprieve we seem to be experiencing from our usual drama. 

But I think I might need this. I need to know that the fiddler didn’t mean anything or that if he did, that Justin didn’t just decide to settle for me after he was disappointed. Resign himself to something he already knew and understood instead of going after what he really wanted. It’ll mean that I need to kick him out again but that doesn’t matter. 

All I know is that this kid is not allowed to settle for anything. He needs to get what he wants and if that’s me then that’s great but if not then… well what the fuck is he doing here? He needs to be sure this is what he wants ‘cause if there’s a next time he can go fuck himself. He’s not coming back. I believe in self-preservation. Actually, I'm an expert. 

He's reading my body and he can tell that I'm not tense. It's probably freaking him out. He's over analysing, he thinks I'm either faking it really well and so he should be worried or I don’t care about the outcome either way so… he should be worried. The kids gonna exhaust himself before the nights out and then I'll definitely be pissed cause he so owes me in fucks and blowjobs for this. And I have a feeling that the count will just keep going up before the nights out. Just ‘cause I've accepted this, doesn’t mean I like it and it definitely doesn’t mean that I won’t be taking this out in trade, on his ass.

We’re home now. I leave the door open because, well we’re having guests over. I get comfortable in just my jeans and a wife-beater, no shoes. He's bustling around like a housewife preparing dinner. One of those dishes that are easy to make and spend ages in the oven so that our interruption won’t be interrupted. This scene is so domestic I'm surprised my gag reflex isn’t acting up.

I need to distract him now… and I know just how to do that. It's a method that seems to work well for me. 

I cross over to him and press him up against the kitchen counter with my whole body but I don’t kiss him, just maintain eye contact. Kissing him would distract him from the knowledge that he's about to get fucked senseless. I want him to know it. To let the anticipation build until him, thinking about how it's gonna be, is everything, till it makes him weak. 

I know that if I give him a moment to think about the pleasure that I’ll give him, his imagination will run away with him. I can just watch him turning himself on as he pictures it. As he decides what he wants from it. If he wants it hard and fast or slow and soft. As he wonders if I'm gonna give him what he wants. Because sometimes I make him take what I want and he loves that too, not having that choice. He's getting harder against my thigh and his eyes are glazing over… and if the Fiddler comes in and sees him sweaty and bruised… well, I'm not gonna say that’s a bad thing.

“Brian!” He's breathless already and I move my thigh under his cock and press up, massaging him with my leg, as I watch him. His breath hitches and he grabs at my chest, catching at my nipples accidentally but he doesn’t notice me tense he's to caught up in what I'm doing to him. He leans his forehead on my chest and moans. I stroke the small of his back and dip my fingers down his crack, rub lightly over his hole, through his underwear. Not necessarily to turn him on but just to make him aware of my presence and because it's where my hand naturally travels of its own accord when I'm with him. But turning him on is never a bad thing. I can feel the ring of muscle clenching and releasing as if he's trying to draw me in and it makes me harder.

I bring my hand out and towards his mouth so that he can suck at my fingers. My leg continues to rub against his crotch. When he's got my fingers good and wet I bring them back to his ass, this time I don’t want the thin material of his underwear in the way. I place my thumb at his hole. Its dry and when I press in he gasps at the feeling but I hardly let him register that before I've switched and I'm pushing two wet fingers inside as far as they can go. He's got his hands clutching at my waist and his head springs up, he's watching me, eyes heavy as he starts to pant. 

I like him like this, helpless for me, dependant on me for his pleasure. I take it a step further and take his air away. I lift his face up and I kiss him, hard so that breathless takes on a whole new meaning. He's dizzy and boneless and I hold him up against me with one hand pressing against his neck and the other one in his ass, forcing him closer to me. 

I continue to rock against him while I bruise his lips and our tongues tangle. He's so hard against me, it hurts. I break off the kiss and lean back, still holding him up around his waist because his legs aren’t working. His eyes are closed and his eyelashes rest against his cheekbones and flutter with each breath I take, as he tries to regain his composure. 

I slowly rotate my fingers in his ass, not to get him off, just so that he knows I'm there and to make him whimper. I study him so pale I can see the small blue veins that are only visible when I'm really looking at him, under his skin like the wings of a butterfly, so fragile but strong and beautiful. 

He looks at me and passes his thumb across my cheekbone. Then he leans in and he runs his tongue slowly along my bottom lip, sampling me. “I love tasting you when I'm not sure where your taste ends and mine begins. I'm laced in your scent, it marks me.” 

He runs his nose up my neck, almost touching and breathes me in as if now that I've allowed him that freedom, the only thing he needs in his air, as vital as oxygen, is me. God, why does thinking this… feeling this make me so goddamned hard. Want him…

But… the Fiddler’s here for his conversation. He’ll get it but he’ll also get it while Justin’s lips are red and marked and so fucking gorgeous. I back away and as he watches me, I suck at the fingers that he knows have just been touching him, inside him, dipped into his core with the hint of his flavour. He tenses… hmph… I'm gonna go now because looking at him right now is not conducive to my not touching him. I walk into the bedroom.  
………………………….

 

Justin POV

I have to physically shake my head to rid myself of the effect he has on me. It doesn’t work but I think I can handle coherent sentences. He's switched on the blue lights over the bed and I know he's done it on purpose to draw Ethan’s attention to his “place of worship” - I'm not joking, I heard a trick call it that once. Brian’s done it to emphasise the fact that no matter what happens now, I'll be up there, with him, the moment Ethan’s gone. Brian does nothing by accident.

I turn to Ethan and smile somewhat apologetically but then I remember that he's the one whose interrupted our night so I forgive myself for inflicting him with such blatant proof of how over him I actually am. If we’d planned it that way it would have been really immature and slightly spiteful… my eyes narrow and I shoot Brian a look… did I mention that with Brian nothings an accident?

I return my full attention to Ethan who looks sorry he ever set foot in this place. I have to say it wasn’t a smart thing to do. He's given up any advantage he might have gained by doing this somewhere else. This is Brian’s territory, his kingdom. Ethan is nothing here, in this place.

I try to play the gracious host but as I'm about to gesture for him to go sit on the sofa, I get a flash. I can't make him sit there. Brian fucked me there on Friday and Saturday… and Sunday when I was going to the fridge. We needed to stay hydrated, we were trying for a marathon and as I went to get us both some water. He threw a wrapped condom at me told me to “hurry my ass up” and as I bent to pick it up… well you can imagine, he was out of that bed so fast… he ended up bending me over the back of the couch and fucking me… twice.

I flush and turn towards… fuck this! I can't look around the loft and not see places we’ve fucked. It's just not possible. I go and sit down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter and leave Ethan to fend for his own seat, he stays standing, watching me.

“So?” I say.

“Is he staying here?” Ethan asks, eyeing Brian like he's planning to call pest control. My eyebrows shoot up.

“Yes. Where the fuck did you think he’d go? This is where Brian lives.”

“It's just I think we could talk better if he weren’t around. Don’t you think?”

“In all honesty, I don’t think there is a place that can make this conversation easier.”

“We could go to my apartment. I can drive you back… if you want?” He seems hopeful, like maybe he won’t have to drive me back.

“You’re right that would make it easier… for _you_. Unluckily… for _you_ … I have no interest in making things easier… for _you_.”

He frowns, “Oh…”

“Ethan what do you want?” I ask bluntly.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That you were happy with the decisions you’ve made. To see if maybe you’d forgiven me.” His voice is quiet but not pleading.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for Ethan. We were young,” suddenly I think, actually it wasn’t that long ago, “and I should have been expecting something to go wrong. After all, life is never perfect. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been me, something was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Exactly!” Ethan looks up kind of eagerly. It confuses me. “That’s what relationships are. How they work. You need to learn from your mistakes.” 

Right… 

“And I did Ethan.” I say pointedly. Ethan was the mistake and I learnt a lot from him.

“No, you gave up to quickly. You never even gave us a chance.” He took a step forward.

I sigh, “Maybe you’re right Ethan but what does it matter now?”

“We exchanged rings. Did they mean so little to you?” Ethan’s voice is low and fervent.

“So little…? To _me_ …?” I shake my head in amazed denial, “I'm sorry, please remind me who it was that fucked around?” I mean seriously. He thinks he can make this my fault? I’d never deny some of the blame. I mean, I could have forgiven him. But in the long run I suppose I just didn’t think he was worth it. Shit! That’s an awful thing to think, but it's true.

“I wasn’t fucking around. It was one time and yes, I obviously did mean so little to you! After all, you came running back here, first chance you got. Those rings were to symbolise our love.” 

Whoops there goes any potential feelings of guilt I may have had. He just pissed me off.

“So what? If you only do it once it's technically not fucking? What do you call it then? Your dick accidentally falling into someone else’s ass?” I shake my head in disbelief and continue, “Those rings _didn’t_ symbolise our love, Ethan. You’d just told me you weren’t going to acknowledge our relationship and practically ignore me in public. That you were going to pretend to be straight for the benefit of your career. You told that reporter that Daphne was my _fucking_ girlfriend. I almost _died_ coming out and you thrust me back in to a closet so fucking deep… without even talking about it with me first.”

“I didn’t mean…” I interrupt him but I'm calmer now.

“You didn’t give me that ring as a symbol of our love. You gave it to placate me. Like you give a child a sweet instead of the big toy he wanted, to make it stop fussing cause he didn’t get his way. And in hindsight I suppose it worked. It mollified me and I settled for some cheap ass commitment ring instead of getting what I wanted. I obviously wasn’t as grown up as I thought.”

He tries to come closer to me and place his hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off and distance myself as he continues to try and make me listen. “No! That wasn’t it. You don’t understand.”

I shut my eyes and my jaw is tense as I bite out, “What is it that you think I don’t understand? That you’re a hypocrite? What is it that you think you can give me that I don’t already have?”

He looks up, his eyes burning. “Love! Unconditionally! Like you’ve always wanted.” He declares.

I role my eyes, “Maybe I don’t want it anymore or maybe I just don’t want it on your terms, maybe I already have it, but on mine. Maybe, I just don’t believe that you actually know what that means.”

“You think he’ll give you that? Be monogamous for you.” He's getting bitchy,

“Monogamy seems over rated suddenly. You taught me that.” I point out.

He shakes his head and clenches his fists. “No! I loved you. I still do. You’re my muse and you should… we should give us another chance.” 

I sigh. Finally you come to the fucking point. I thought it was gonna end up taking forever.

“No!” I say matter-of-factually 

“You can’t just dismiss us like that. We could have been great and now we’ll be better.” He smiles and approaches me. “We wouldn’t even be members of starving artist incorporated.” 

Of course the sweet personal memories… if he's trying to make a play on intimacy, it's not working.

“Ethan,” I gesture around me, “I'm hardly living in squalor, let alone starving.”

“You live with Daphne.” He says, his eyes narrowing.

“Like one night a week.” He's starting to piss me off.

I look up to where Brian is leaning against the blinds that screen off the bedroom, exasperated. Brian walks down the stairs, towards him. 

“Ethan…” Brian uses his name, even though he always calls him Ian. At least he has the very few times he deigned to acknowledge or refer to him, he usually calls him Ian... or the fiddler or… but he calls him Ethan so that I’ll know that this is important and to make sure he’s got Ethan’s undivided attention. “How to explain this in terms you understand.” Ethan’s looks at him with barely contained disdain. 

Brian pauses for a moment then begins, “Ethan… when was the first time you smoked a cigarette? Describe it to me.” Ethan looks at me with this - what the fuck -expression, but I nod as if he needs my permission to answer the question.

“Umm… During break time at school with a couple of friends, I missed violin practice cause Claude said he had something to show us. I was 13, 14… Why?” Jesus only 13 and he already had friends with such pretentious names.

“Okaay,” Brian says like he’s talking to an idiot. I haven't a clue what this is about but I know Brian has a point to make, so I wait it out. “Fuck, I thought you were a fucking musician all about feelings and emotions…” 

I role my eyes cause - subtle dig – received and understood, Sir. I do understand what he wants though. Where he’s actually going with this is still a mystery and why he couldn’t have just said it, is beyond me but I know its cause he’s such a coward. Brian thinks that saying words like ‘feelings’ and ‘emotions’ too often mean he’ll suddenly turn into this big dyke. 

I laugh at him with my eyes but decide to help Ethan out anyway and I say, “He means what you felt, what you remember, the taste, the smell...”

“Oh! Ummm... well it made me cough and the taste… well I wasn’t used to it so I nearly gagged but it was uhhh kind of exciting and over really quickly…”

“Why?” Brian fires out.

“Why what?” Ethan sounds annoyed

“Why was it exciting?” Brian says drawing out the words a little and I look at him with the beginnings of understanding.

“Oh, ‘cause… I don’t know. I guess because it was a secret and I wasn’t allowed but also that I didn’t like it so I learnt not to… unless I practiced a bit to get used to it…” Ethan trails of a little uncertainly as if maybe he realises that this line of questioning could maybe, possibly have a point but still not really grasping what it was. But Brian obviously thinks he’s finished because he turns around and goes back up the stairs towards the bathroom. 

 

Brian POV

I walk up the stairs but decide I need a cigarette and leave Justin to finish this off. I know that Justin knows what I’m talking about now. So I know he can finish it. I also know that if I had done it the whole thing would have been less effective. I hate to have to rely on those coupley methods to get the point across… Fuck, I hate having to acknowledge the fact that I know what coupley methods actually are. Hate knowing that I know when Justin’s understood what I'm saying before I've finished saying it, just by the way his shoulders move or relax or… something that he does with his back and I just know what it means and it annoys me that I can tell by such an insignificant movement… I guess that with us… body language is used in a whole other dimension. 

I move away, but I'm still watching. I catch the fact that Ian still thinks I'm nuts and that he thinks he could win this but I know this isn’t even a fight or a war or whatever it is he thinks this is. Its just clarification. He looks at Justin with this questioning look and Justin raises his eyebrows waiting and Ian says with, what I suppose he thinks is high levels of condescension.

“I'm sorry, but I don’t understand. Was there a point to those questions?” 

I can see Justin control his instinctive reaction to role his eyes. I can tell he both sighs at the thought that he’s going to say something hurtful, not because it's Ian, but because he just doesn’t like to hurt anyone. If he can avoid it and I also see his shoulders set in determination cause he’s getting annoyed and he wants this over and he’s worried about how this is effecting me but it's not, effecting me that is. He should know that the only thing I'm getting out of this is another way of milking the situation and in the long run his cock and ass and…

“Ethan you’re my cigarette.” Justin says, but he's staring at me “This thing I did because I’d never done it before and it was a secret. Because it distracted me and eased some tension, gave me a break from different, far more serious cravings. What I remember about my first cigarette isn’t the taste or the smell. I remember what caused me to try it. I remember the thrill of doing something I thought I wasn’t allowed. I remember that I learnt, that afterwards, it left a bitter taste in my mouth and that I didn’t understand why other people wanted it. My craving for romance…” he looks back at Ethan again. “Well… you quenched it really well and withdrawal was a lot easier than I thought it would be. I suppose it is, once you realise you didn’t need it to begin with.”

See I could never have put it that eloquently.

…………………………..  
Justin POV

Finally, he's starting to understand. But I know now we’ve put him slightly on the defensive so he’ll…

“You let me top you.” There you go. I feel Brian tense, or maybe it's me that tenses. It's not that Brian doesn’t think that I don’t bottom for any one else but him. Actually, I'm pretty sure he thinks he knows that I do. It's just that I don’t, ever, when he’s around. Why would I? He’s around? Why settle for seconds when he’s within reaching distance?

“Ethan, how many times?”

“Once. But you’re a top, so you never do it often…” 

I furrow my eyebrows and I say “You think that I top, Brian? That he bottoms for me every day and… uhhh night?” I hear Brian snort.

“Oh, I…” I can tell he hadn’t really thought that through.

“Ethan, I never let you top me again because I needed the control in my life, at school, my friends, even us. I was out of control and the only thing I could control was sex. Do you remember when it was that I let you top me?”

“Yeah. It was after I came to get you at the Rage party. After you decided to really commit to us, to our relationship.” 

I see Brian look at me knowingly and he seems to just let it go. Let everything go as if he now knows, without a doubt that everything will be ok. He immediately seems to get this air of restlessness as if now, with this revelation, this can all be over. He wants to get on to whatever’s next on the agenda, namely punishing my ass. He’s such a child. His moods so fucking volatile and he’s impatient with no attention span. I realise immediately that he’s paying absolutely no attention to what’s happening anymore. He knows that nothing that will be said in the next few minutes will affect him.

“Why do you think I let you do that, that night?” I can see Ethan think about it and even though in the last few minutes I seemed to sound more patronizing, I wasn’t gonna make him say it. “Brian had just hurt me so I wanted to hurt him too. I wanted to prove to him, to you, to me, to every fucking person in my life that I could do whatever I wanted to and that Brian had no effect or control over me. I tried to make letting someone top me symbolise me, letting Brian go. But it didn’t really work. I don’t think Brian will ever really not be there with me” I give Brian a sideways grin and he meets my eyes “He kind of made a really good first impression.”

“So what? This is it?” Ethan asks dejectedly.

“Yeah Ethan. It was _it_ a long time ago.”

“But if he’s so fucking perfect what the fuck was I? Why did you leave him for me?” 

I go up to Ethan and tell him that he should go. But he's shaking his head and finally I tell him that if he doesn’t leave fucking now Brian’s going to get bitchy and that then I had no control over the consequences.

“Justin, Rage wants to see you in the bed room.” Brian shouts out, in his most sarcastic tone.

“You are such a fucking idiot… and an asshole and I mean that in the most endearing, loving and devoted way possible.” I go up towards him and slap at his chest but he grabs my hand and tugs me towards him. I relax against his body and rest my forehead on his chest. His heartbeat’s slow and steady. He places his arms around me and looks over my shoulder.

“I think you should go now. There’s nothing here that you want that you can have.”

I blink… Fuck that was practically a declaration, Kinney. I lift my head up and look up at him, kiss his chin and turn around to walk back towards Ethan. I lead him to the door, once he's over the threshold he turns around again as if to say something but I beat him to it.

“Ethan, thank you. I'm sorry it turned out this way but you taught me a lot.”

“It just led you right back to where you started…” Ethan looks at me puzzled

“I know!” 

With that he glares at me, turns and goes without waiting for the lift.

I slide the loft door closed and bolt it. I turn around and look at Brian whose standing in front of me near the couch. He walks towards me kisses the top of my head and tells me to hurry the fuck up cause he's hungry and horny and he wants to attempt to eat dinner before sampling dessert.

I check the food and start putting everything in serving dishes. Brian sets the table, I don’t say thank you cause it would mean I noticed and then he’d never do it again. We sit, he gets up and goes to get the wine, he pours some for both of us and we eat. 

I'm washing the dishes when I finally get the courage to ask him, “Brian?” I watch him “is there anything else you want to know?” 

He looks at me and gives me one of those classic Kinney looks. He raises one eyebrow and tucks his tongue into his cheek.

“About what Sunny Boy?” 

My eyebrows go up in a questioning gaze but he keeps on looking straight at me. Fine if that’s the way he wants to play it, that’s the way it's gonna be. I dry my hands on a dishtowel and walk towards him. Put my arms round his neck and his go round my waist and pull me towards him

“Fine. So…? What do you want to do now? Dessert?” I give him my most wide-eyed innocent look and he laughs, kisses me hard, opened mouthed but with no tongue and pulls me towards the couch.

“No, I want to watch a movie.”

What the fuck? “Brian?”

“Justin?” He mimics me and I glare at him, but follow.

“If you’re not going to fuck me then I'll go and jerk off.”

“…And you’re telling me this why…? It hardly affects my health.”

“Actually, did you know that research has shown that regular masturbation can cut the risk of prostate cancer by up to a third?” He's comfortable on the couch and I go to him. He grabs my hand and pulls me down on top of him.

“Where the fuck did you read that? ... And what’s regular?”

“Wikipedia and more than 5 times. It reduces the buildup of carcona-something-genic deposits, which can damage the cells lining the prostate.” I quote.

“A day?” he asks vaguely.

“A week Brian” I laugh. 

He looks at me and says, “Well, I'm sure you’ll be fine. Do you think it matters _how_ you come? Or is it only jerking off that counts? Well, I suppose, it hardly matters, you get that in a day no matter what, either way.”

“I don’t have 10 orgasms a day…” I say in shock, “Do I? Jesus! Do we actually have that much sex?” I'm actually kind of horrified and curious and… if someone else came up to me and told me they had 10 orgasms a day I'd think they had to be a sex addict or something. Well, there are worse things I could be.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Brian says sarcastically “Count!”

“Wake-up sex, shower blow-jobs… oh… sometimes if I'm awake first I'll wake you up with a blow-job too… then there’s shower sex and then…” 

Brian shakes his head and lightly backhands me.

“Shut up Twat… movies playing now.”

…………………..

Brian’s been stroking me casually since the opening credits, an hour-and-a-half ago. 

We take our shirts off to watch movies because I like to feel his skin against me, the whole of my back resting across his chest. He's lying on the couch with his head propped up with pillows. I'm cradled in the V of his legs with one of his arms holding me in place. He's touching me everywhere. His right hand is stroking the skin on my belly, occasionally dipping in to my trousers to brush his fingers through my pubes or quickly skim my cock, which has been standing to attention for the past 75 minutes. Sometimes he’ll use his little finger to trace the head and occasionally dip and search the slit for the pre cum that’s been bubbling up. Then he’ll bring his hand up and let me suck my flavour off his fingers and start the process all over again. 

His foot, in the meantime, intermittently crawls up my calf and lightly strokes my ankle. His other hand is weaving fingers through my hair, irregularly massaging my scalp and sometimes tracing my brow, or the edge of my lips, or cheekbones, brushing over the delicate skin directly below my eyes. Rarely, his tongue breaks out and licks the ridge of my ear and pulls at the lobe and he knows that for me that’s like pulling at my cock. He seems totally unaffected as if he hardly notices what he's doing but he's hard beneath me. He seems in no hurry to move this along though. I’ve never been this hard in my life. Not since that time… shit that’s not helping.

I'm languid, boneless.

Finally, I give in and I gasp out his name. The hand, which until then, had only seemed concerned with the upper half of my body and had at that moment been tracing my nipples, comes up and closes around my throat. Tight, but not tight enough to stop air flow. Just tight enough for me to know that he holds all the power. That he could do whatever he wants to me. What he doesn’t know is that I'd let him do anything to me, regardless of how he's holding me down, or maybe he does know that. 

He has the control. He feels every breath I take and every time I have to swallow to get rid of the saliva that’s building up in my mouth quicker and quicker, as my body aches for him. His other hand undoes the button of my jeans, pulls the zip down holding it close to my dick slowly so I can feel every click of movement and the rush of danger. He then dips into my underwear and curls his fingers around the shaft. All I can feel is the heat of his hands and I hold my breath waiting for him to move. 

After a moment his mouth moves towards my ear and he says, “You know, most people find breathing to be an essential element of the remaining alive thing. You shouldn’t give up on it quite yet.”

I moan and try to elbow my way up to a sitting position so as to better lecture him in the cruelty involved in torture but the hand around my neck keeps me tight against him and his hold on my cock is strong. He chooses that moment to run his thumb over the head and Fuck… I whimper and my hands come up to pull at the one at my neck.

“Don’t!” He commands.

“Brian… please?” I beg. My body’s been humming, vibrating for so long. It won’t be long before I'm listless. It won’t take very much more to make me come. 

“What do want?”

“…You.” I breathe, I plead.

“Okay.” He strokes me “Then stop trying to… just trust me to get you where you want to go.”

I groan and sigh and I let go. He's holding on to my neck and passing his thumb over my lips, rubbing them. It hurts, but when it's too much, too dry, too sensitive, I lick my lips so that his thumb glides over. I keep having to lick my lips; I've lost count of how many times. My hands hang by my side. Initiative is a word that’s 3 syllables longer then any I could comprehend at the moment. So I won’t move or do anything but moan until I'm told otherwise.

Brian lets go of my cock and props himself up into more of a seated position still holding me to his chest and orders me to take my trousers and underwear off. 

I manage to do that, pushing them down with my feet and in the process rubbing my ass into his crotch. He moans and the hand round my neck tightens for a second. He bends my left leg so that my knee hooks over the back of the couch, my other leg he drapes over the side so that my toes almost touch the floor. It leaves me so open, so exposed. His hand disappears for a second into the couch cushions and comes back wet with lube. I briefly wonder how he did that but the details just aren’t registering.

He gets me wet and slick, my cock, balls and crack, I'm sure I'm a mess and I'm just as sure that I don’t care. My head is resting on his shoulder and he catches the skin at the angle of my jaw and bites and sucks and sometimes blows on the skin there, which makes me shiver, he's marking me… and he's moving so slowly, so slowly.

He's playing with my nipples with the hand that had been playing with my cock. I don’t know whether to be glad that he's pinching and lightly running his finger nails across them in just the way I like or annoyed that he isn’t touching my cock or sticking his hand in my ass.

I'm panting. I think I've been panting for a while now but I hadn’t noticed. He turns my face up to his so that he can kiss me. I try to kiss him back but end up just opening my mouth and allowing his tongue to do whatever it wants to me. I'm sensing a pattern suddenly but I'll think about it later, if I remember.

He stops playing with my nipples and starts to lightly stroke my chest and tummy, until he reaches the crease where my leg meets my crotch. He's stroking up and down getting closer and closer to my ass. My breath hitches when he crosses over to my other side and I moan a plea.

I barely register when suddenly he's got two fingers in my ass and he's circling them touching and rubbing all of me that he can reach, pausing sometimes to stroke and massage my prostate. It's not enough, I want him, and his cock inside me, splitting me open, but God I want to come. The need to come more important then asking for him to let me go, to move me or for him to let go of my neck, which at the moment I feel is the only thing keeping me grounded. I can feel my orgasm creeping up, so fast from the second he started touching me inside. I hear myself groan and Brian’s breathing in my ear. I move one of my arms behind and above me. I need to touch him I need… I just fucking need. His fingers are a constant pressure on my prostate and soon I'll…

“Justin! Justin!” he's saying my name. I listen to him. “Don’t come. Justin, I don’t want you to come.” 

…I'm going to pretend I wasn’t listening to him. Although my automatic reaction to what he said was to moan loudly… or maybe that’s because he's slipped his thumb inside. He's got two fingers and his thumb and he's stretching me and God it feels good the burning, God, I love the burning.

“Justin, don’t come. You’re not allowed to come” I don’t understand.

…Why is he still touching me like that… with that intention to make me come if he doesn’t want me to.

“Brian? I…? …Guh!” That’s good for the first attempt. Right? 

“Don’t come.” He says it firmer now but he continues to massage my prostate and I just… I just can't think… and why is he still doing that if he doesn’t want me to come? I need to come, my legs already trying to curl towards me, to prepare me for the intensity of my orgasm. 

“No, no, no… Brian …Please? …I… Brian? … Just need. God, Brian please?”

“Justin make it stop. I can tell you’re close. I want you to make it stop. Your balls are so tight, heavy.”

“I can't Brian. Stop! Stop… moving… fingers. I can't slow it down… Please Brian?” I'm sobbing now, my leg’s flexing, my back arching, my hips rutting against his hand and my hand clutching at his hair. I might be hurting him and I'm shaking and… God please let me come. He's fingers keep twisting inside me.

“Justin! Make! It! Stop!” How? God how? I just… I can't think.

“I know it’ll hurt but it's going to be too late if you don’t! Stop it, now!” I finally register what he wants from me.

“No, no Brian… please don’t make me.” My breath hitching after every word. I think I'd be hyperventilating if it weren’t for his thumb rubbing the pulse in my neck in a steady rhythm as if he's keeping time for me.

“Justin… Do it! Now!” 

I cry out and quickly move my hand to the vein on my cock and inch towards the base and press down hard. I don’t know if I made it in time. But the second I'm there Brian stops probing my ass and helps, pulling my full balls away from my body, to stop them from rising. He's sucking at the pulse in my neck now. I feel him as if he were a part of my heartbeat.

I turn on my side and curl my legs up, bury my face in his chest, trembling. I try to steady my breathing, the hand that was around my neck strokes through my hair and down my back. Brian’s whispering and muttering sweet nothings as he holds me. He always does that when he's making me suffer something particularly intense. I don’t know if he knows that he does that for me.

He sits up and I slide off him, my head resting lower, on his thigh as he starts to take off his jeans. I'm still trying to remember how to breathe. I don’t want to look at him right now. I'm feeling so fucking vulnerable and I just… feel like crying and fuck I need to come and I really just need to come.

“Justin, come here.” He’s stroking my side with a little bit of pressure, to encourage my movement. I'm aching but I follow his directions. I sit up and swing one leg over, to straddle him. I keep my face down, my forehead on his shoulder so that he can't see me. He's got a condom on. When did that happen? He's so hard, so hard and… fuck it, if my mouth doesn’t water. 

It's so tempting to stand up right now, chin up, back straight and walk off. To leave him, hard and wanting me as payback for two hours of such fucking intense foreplay and not letting me come… Fuck! Thinking about it is getting me agitated and slightly pissed off. I'd love to have the strength to leave right now but to do that I'd be depriving myself of some really good fucking sex… and I really need sex right now.

 

Brian POV

God…! The last two hours have been torture. But it's going to be worth it… so fucking worth it. Just turning Justin into such a helpless mess is… he’s so fucking beautiful like that, without inhibitions and just wanting… so beautiful. He's tense right now, angry with me for wanting me so much. Its like playing with naked, live electrical wires. He's feeling everything and I know that I have to be careful how I touch him or he’ll come, or get angry, or take charge, or come. He's still on this precipice and I need to touch him gently. He's been so good.

His head comes up and he looks directly at me, defiantly, fighting what he thinks my control is over him but he should know that he can do whatever he wants. I’d let him do anything. I lean my head towards him and lick at his lips. He doesn’t respond but he doesn’t fight me. So I continue to gentle him and calm him with my mouth. Trying to appease, by begging entrance with my tongue. He relishes the control he has by forbidding access into his mouth for a minute. To let me know that if he wanted he could call the shots. That it is his choice to give me his control and therefore, ultimately he's still the one with all the power. He’d be a perfect Sub, confident of his own strength, in himself, his sense of entitlement… alls the pity cause for him, I'd be a terrible Dom. For him alone, anyone else I'm brilliant, but him... I like it too much when he challenges me and fights for every inch he gives me. I love fighting for every inch he relinquishes, for his surrender and he loves letting me win. 

He kisses me back.

I slide my hand up the underside of his leg, over his ass and up his spine. He pulls back and watches me, his mouth red and bruised, mine feels the same. He kneels up lifting away from me so that I can guide him back down on to my cock. He's watching me. He lowers himself down and stops a moment to relish the pressure at his entrance or maybe it's to make me wait. He pushes himself all the way down in one swift, smooth but sharp movement.

Shit! He clutches at my shoulder hard, his fingers digging in. It was too fast. He wasn’t stretched enough. I can tell it hurt, by his gasp and that sob.

Tight… god it's so tight... 

But he hurt himself. He was too fast. I try to focus so that I can see if it was too much for him and I know it was by the look on his face and his eyes screwed shut… stupid… I move my arms to his waist to lift him up but he stops me and looks straight at me then rests his forehead against my lips. I kiss him, try to ease and he pets me as if I'm the one that needs comfort.

“That was for me Brian. God I needed that. So good… so good… to have you there… needed it. Wanted to feel it. Wanted it to hurt. Wanted you so bad… God… Your next.” He's breathing heavily but I can see the pleasure all over him… and… wait… how am I next?

He lifts up and I see a glint of mischief in his eye as he lowers himself… so slow… in millimetres, I groan… so tight and on the up stroke he tightens up further, using his muscles to… god… I gasp and he lets out this laugh and his eyes… so much light and pleasure and happiness. 

He keeps going building his rhythm, tight on the up stroke and so slow on the down. So fucking slow. He's torturing me but in the process tormenting himself as well. I'm surprised that his need to make me suffer has overridden his desire to cum immediately. All I want to do is throw him on the floor and fuck him to within an inch of his life. But I let him have this for as long as it last. Which isn’t very long. His movement’s, already faltering and his whimpers are getting desperate. I can tell that all he wants to do is take me in as deep as he can and grind against me till he comes but he won’t.

“Okay!” he accedes and he kisses me as if it's in this action that he passes his control over to me. Only he can drive me to distraction just by kissing me. I crave his taste and I've been longing for him since I kissed him at the supermarket. I've hungered for him since that first time I ever tasted his innocence. 

He's still on my lap, my cock deep inside him while he massages me with all his internal muscles, driving me nuts. I bite his lip and slap his ass hard, knowing that I've left my handprint on his skin. He gasps and his eyes water. I motion for him to wrap his legs around me as I stand up. My muscles quiver with the exertion and I groan because it feels like gravity has forced him to take me deeper as he settles his weight on my hips, wraps his arms around my neck and sucks on my tongue.

I want to fuck him and to do it as thoroughly as I can… I need my bed. I start to walk towards it. I can hear Justin mewling. My hands are cupping his ass and my fingers running up and down his crack. He's still wet from all the lube I coated him in earlier. So I pull my mouth back from where it was hungrily mauling at his and I watch him as I slide two fingers in alongside my cock. His eyes fly open at the initial pain and stretch, he gasps and clings to me and moans and begs. I don’t know if he's pushing me away or trying to draw me in. His eyes role into the back of his head and I realise I need to get him flat on his back before his muscles just can't hold on to me anymore. He's shaking, quivering and almost sobbing again. He's the only person I've ever wanted to take to this place more than once and I love bringing him back over and over again. It's my weakness wanting him to want me this much.

I fall to my knees on the mattress and lay him down softly. I relish his warmth and the feeling of strength that he induces in me while he's lying in the curve of my arms, weak and mindless from the climax I've denied him, trembling from the pleasure I've allowed him thus far. He's touching me everywhere and reacting to everything… but I'm not actually directly responsible for his moans anymore. At this point, for him, existing, breathing is just sensation, a cycle that keeps turning him on more and more. 

I'm leaning over him, his legs wrapped tight around me, resting my weight on my left arm watching his face for the reaction to the slightest movement of my hips, or from the curve of my fingers that are still inside him. He's covered in sweat, I've kept him from coming for too long and his heart rate is up. He's pleading again.

He starts hitting my shoulder with the flat of his palm begging me silently to do something. To end it, or move my hips, or jerk him off, or fuck him with abandon… just something. I run my hand through his hair, down his cheek over his lips, down his neck, touching him, teasing him. I tighten my hold on his neck a little bit to get his endorphins running then pinch one of his nipples hard. His eyes fly open and he half growls, shoves at my shoulder fiercely. His strength not only takes me by surprise but also unbalances me. I end up on my back without any struggle, him still straddling me with his hands pinning my shoulders down. He's dislodged the fingers I had in his ass. But he hardly notices because he's begun to move, and fuck himself on me with no concern for anything other than his own release.

He's beautiful like that. The blue lights over the bed reflecting off the sheen of sweat that covers his entire body, he glows. Reassured that I won’t flip him over again he lets me go allowing me to place my hands on his hips, help him force himself down on me, so deep I don’t think I've ever been so deep inside of him… had him so open for me like I'll touch the core of him if I went just a little bit further. He's running his hands mindlessly all over his body. He's tugging at his hair and finally his arms come to rest folded over his eyes. As if seeing… anything would be… it’s just too much.

“Justin? Are you ready?”

“Fuck… you!” he's totally breathless the labour of finding words and then gasping them out… too much but he nods. 

\I run my hands up his torso, stroking at all the skin I can reach. I sit up; curve my arms under his so that my hands can cup his shoulders and his head. I pull my legs under me and lay him down on his back again, my hands on his shoulders forcing him down on me deeper. His hands go up around my head to stroke and pull at my ears. He's watching me through eyes that are only slits of desire as he tries to pull me down so that he can kiss me but he doesn’t have the strength anymore. My sweat is dripping onto him, mixing with his own, there’s so much heat as we reach for our climaxes. 

His legs aren’t holding me tight anymore; he just has them hooked over my hips letting me do all the work, with no strength to help me hold him firmer against myself. His arms have dropped and they’re draped covering his eyes again. He's shaking his head from side to side, his mouth hanging open so that he can breathe and pant. 

The moans and whimpers spilling from his mouth are interspersed with pleadings and “Gods, No, Please, Brian, Brian, Please?” 

We’re almost there, but I need to look at him, need to see him. I pull at his arms and they fall at his side, boneless. They try and move to touch his cock but I hiss. I want him to come from my cock up his ass or not at all. It was a half-hearted attempt to lift his arms it seems because they hardly move.

“Justin! Look at me… fucking look at _Me_.” He moves his face slowly in my direction as if every movement, which he has to think of making, is ten times harder and slower and heavier. 

He opens his eyes, and I thrust into him and he comes. He's been on the edge for so long that when he finally falls off he's hardly prepared for, his balls tighten and he's flooded with it, overwhelmed by it, he fractures, with a mindless stream of babbles and convulsions, his toes curling, his back arching so sharp, his hands slammed down on to the mattress beneath us to keep his balance.

His internal muscles milk me and I come a few thrusts later while he's still in the throes of his intense orgasm. I groan, from my pleasure and from his fucking beauty at this moment and I don’t have the strength to hold myself up anymore.

Normally, I'd try and let my weight fall to the side of him but usually that would imply my cock being dislodged from his ass. I know that I can't let that happen right now, he’d want me to stay. He’ll notice the loss of me and get fussy. So I let my weight fall on him. He doesn’t notice. His arms don’t even come up to wrap around me so he probably passed out when he came.

It must be some minutes later when our breathing is even that he groans and whimpers and his eyes flutter and his arms lift to hold me closer. I brace myself to lift off of him but he must feel the sudden tension in my shoulders because his arms strengthen their hold. 

“Brian? No don’t! Need you… need.” He moans, everything’s still extremely sensitive every movement inside him makes him twitch with aftershocks.

“Shhh shhh… it's okay.” I stroke him, try to soothe him but I know I'm softening and he’ll loose me soon regardless of his wishes.

“Do you want a plug?” I ask him quietly. He mews like a kitten and my heart skips a beat he looks so young, so debauched, so drowned in pleasure, so beautiful. But his legs tighten around me and his hand comes up to grab my hip and pull me to him.

“No!” he begs me.

“Okay Justin! It's okay. Just for a second while I switch positions.” I pull out and off of him as quickly as I can, take the condom off and clean myself up. Under normal circumstances I'd fuck him again but we’re both fucked out right now. After a little attention I role another condom on, move to my side and pull him back, flush against me, his head resting on my arm and I slip back inside him. He sighs in contentment already half asleep, his hand comes up and he threads his fingers through mine. My other hand moves to stroke his side.

“…and don’t touch me right now,” he murmurs. “… ‘cause I think… I can't… too much heat… I might become… fire” 

Okaay… received and totally not understood but whatever you say. I move my hand back, lay my head back on my pillow and sleep.

A couple of hours later I wake up when I feel him moving, turning around to face me, his hand coming down between us to take the condom off and then moving back so that as much of his skin is touching mine as possible. He kisses my nipple and his head comes up and he's watching me, his fingers are threaded through my hair and he strokes through it studying me.

“I know your not sleeping, Brian.” I groan but don’t open my eyes.

“No?” I say “Maybe not… but I'm definitely not awake.” I mumble. He kisses me. I move my arm around him to pull him tighter towards me but before I can really kiss him back, he moves away.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again!” I raise an eyebrow. It must look strange when I do that with my eyes closed but nothing, not even this stupid conversation will induce me to open them. 

“At least not for another month or so. Not ‘till I've forgotten how much it fucking hurts, how in-fucking-credible it is and how much I really don’t want to want it. Okay?” I smile and my hand moves down to cup his ass. His hand moves down over it, takes it, brings it back up to his waist and lets it fall.

“I meant spontaneously combust. See I'm better now I used many syllable-d word… things”

“What?”

“I was clarifying what I said earlier! You can touch me now. Actually, it would be nice…” my arm, on his waist curves around him and pulls him to me. I stroke his back to quiet him.

“Justin sleep now” he rubs his face in my neck and breathes me in. His breathing slows down.

“K!” 

He sleeps. I open my eyes and see all that blond in my face and breathe in the scent of sex and Justin. Holding him, having him here with me… well, it doesn’t suck. I've arrived at that conclusion. It takes me a while but I usually get there at some point. I take a deep breath and let myself drift off.


End file.
